Upon the Thorn She Chose
by thePhantom'sEvenstar
Summary: On Haitus. Christine returns to find Erik when she realizes her mistake. Will she ever be able to leave Raoul and the life she knew behind for her love of one dark soul? EC all the way, angst and fluff! ALW with touches of Kay
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer_: I do not own PotO--they belong to the ever-revered ALW, Kay, and, of course, Gaston Leroux--nor am I making any profits from this phiction. Ha, like anyone would pay to read this...lol **

**_A/N_: Ok, just to make things clear, I am changing the following...**

**1) Erik is in his late thirties--not 50, contrary to Kay**

**2) Gerard Butler, Emmy Rossum, and Patrick Wilson are my Erik, Christine, and Raoul**

**_REVIEW_! Flames are just a waste of everyone's time so don't bother, however constructive critism is welcome :D**

Christine awoke in her bed, the sun's brilliant rays of morning bathing her skin in a golden glow. Stealing a glance at the clock, she noticed it was already nearly noon, and while such a habit would never be tolerated under normal circumstances, she had "taken ill" as of late, and Raoul had granted that small pity on his dear wife. The true cause for her distress was, as she had finally admitted to herself, Erik. It had only been two months since her and Raoul's narrow escape, yet her health and mental state had been deteriorating rapidly. At first she had not missed Erik or felt disgust and hatred towards herself for betraying him, quite the contrary, but nonetheless understandable--why should she choose to burn in Hell with her Angel when her sweet, innocent Raoul could sweep her off her feet and carry her into the sunset?

But all good things must come to an end, and within one week of their marriage and just over a month from their journey back from Erik's inferno the fairy dust began to fade from their happily ever after. Raoul had become Comte as Phillippe, his brother twenty years his elder, had been found dead several days following _Don Juan_, and as a result he could not spend much time with Christine. To make matters worse, Christine was often completely alone for not only was she poorly received by Raoul's two sisters, his only remaining relatives, but Meg had been busy with odd jobs until she could be hired properly, so she did not have the time to spare her dear foster sister. Christine now spent her days of late sleeping as long as she could and reading to pass her waking hours. Raoul had forbid her to sing save in church, for he figured that the Devil dared not threaten his wife's life again within God's house. He hated to cause her more pain by denying her the arts that she so adored, but he felt as if he had no choice.

Raoul rarely had the chance to spend time with his beloved Christine, save for an occasional dinner or tea during the week and a brief period following mass on Sundays. Even from these short outings he could tell that she was not well. It was apparent that she had lost weight, her perfectly proportioned curves reduced to gradual arcs and angles. Her skin was pale and the blue of her veins was apparent on her arms and legs, giving her a ghostly air. Her chocolate orbs had seemed to widen as her face thinned out and her sienna curls were dull and wispy, nowhere near obtaining the lush shine they once had. Raoul's heart cracked just a bit further each time he saw her, for she appeared to be slipping away from him and away from the life they could have had. She was slipping back into _his_ grasp, and Raoul was sure of it. She would often wake up in the middle of the night sweating and moaning, crying out for her _Angel_ or _Erik_. Raoul assumed that "Erik" was the name of her "Angel" yet he was still bewildered by the idea of that _thing_ having a personality or identity. To Raoul, Erik would simply be referred to as _Him_.

As her thoughts drifted from Raoul and her recent past they came to rest upon Erik. Oh, her poor, dear Erik. How she had betrayed him--betrayed herself. Betrayed herself--what was she saying? She didn't honestly believe that she _loved_ him, did she? How could she love a heartless murderer? _'Heartless murderer? What are you saying, Christine? He was never heartless--quite the opposite--simply brash and passionate. As for Buquet's demise, it was of course something he deserved for the countless deadly sins that he had committed. And who was anyone to say that Erik had actually murdered Buquet with his own hands?' _No, she was convinced that what Erik had done was horrid, no matter the quality of his victim's soul. _'Soul? Who are you to speak of souls? You, of all the people in this world, Christine De Chagny, you are the one to cry out for the justice of souls when your crime weighed far heavier than Erik's. Yes, Erik may have ended the life of an awful, wretched man's body, but you are far worse. You killed a soul. And not just any soul, mind you. You killed the most beautiful of all the fallen angel's souls. You choked what little life there was left in Erik's heart and spirit. Now he truly is a corpse; a rotted shell of the man he never fully was, and yet the man with your help he had been so close to becoming. How could you blame him for murder and deception when it is you whose guilt in those crimes dwarfs Erik's own? You say you fear his temper, his pain, his passion. Yet to say that, you are admitting to fearing life itself. Now you have turned from living and entered a world where all actions are robotic and meaningless. Erik lived in a world of physical masquerade. You will live in a world of mental masquerade. Erik lived a dark, hellish truth. You will live a fake, gilded lie. And this time there is no Angel to save you. For there is nothing left in you worth saving... Let the masquerade begin.'_

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Erik pounded viciously on the piano, one of the few of his personal items left intact after his destructive tantrum. God, he was so weak. How could he let her destroy him like this? For nearly two months now, well many months but these two in particular, Christine had haunted his mind. At one point he had been so close to having her, to winning her over, to subtly forcing her to submit to his power. When she unmasked him he believed things would change, for now she would never think him handsome since she had seen his grotesque personage. He expected that he would have to keep her down with him against her will. But for some strange reason, she treated him no different than before. He dared not mention the incident, for though her actions had not changed and neither had her demeanor, he knew that her bitter truths would sting his ears if he asked her of her thoughts. True, she seemed to fear him more, but yet he sensed that she was also now drawn to him. He once heard her confess to Little Giry that she would never be able to leave him completely, for he would always hold onto part of her soul, her heart, her memory. She had repeated those same words to Raoul, though her difference in disposition had changed the matter entirely. While her confession to Meg had implied a growing fondness and devotion to Erik, her recount of her emotions to Raoul towards her Angel of Music and the Phantom of the Opera, who were in fact one in the same, indicated utter terror. And why shouldn't she be afraid? He was a beast, a monster, a demon. Even his own mother had feared him, and with fear came loathing..._'"You ruined my life the day you were born--ruined it...**ruined** it! I hate you, I hate the very sight and sound of you...your devil's face and your angel's voice! There are plenty of angels in Hell, did you know that? I wish to God you were with them, where you belong. I wish you were dead, do you hear me? I wish you were dead!"'_

He hit a particularly offensive chord as the memories pain blazed through him, a searing white hot knife. He had ruined his mother's life by existing...surely he had caused much more damage to Christine by forcing her into his hell. There are plenty of angels in Hell, but Christine was one angel that would never, _ever_, belong there. Strange though, that she had chosen him when the decision was forced upon her. But she must have done it only with the Vicomte in mind, he was the one where her heart truly laid. Even now she had probably forgotten him...moved on with her life in the world of the beautiful people, found her true place and true happiness with the Vicomte, had a lovely wedding where she pledged her undying love to her childhood sweetheart, perhaps by now she was even with child-- a _perfect_ child free of deformities, corruption, pain. Another series of bitterly bleeding chords resounded in the darkness. Even now she had probably forgotten him...how he wished that he could forget her.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: _Of course I don't own these characters! Why on earth would I be writing this if I did?**

**_A/N:_ In Raoul's thoughts the pronoun 'him' is used often; _'him'_ will refer to Erik, while 'him' merely refers to Raoul himself. In later chapters the same will apply to Raoul when zoning in on Erik's POV.**

Christine awoke abruptly from yet another fitfull sleep...the memory of Erik's pleading tears as he knelt before her, sobbing uncontrolably, confessing his undying love for her and his undying loathing towards himself replayed itself like a broken record. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. The memories always haunted her at her most vulnerable moments...

A gentle knock on the door stirred Christine from her thoughts. "Lotte?" Raoul's voice was muffled by the thick oaken door. "Lotte? Are you awake?"

"Come in, Raoul."

The golden handle turned to reveal a fit young man with fair hair and crystal blue eyes standing in the entryway. "Christine, I have some news...I must leave for London tomorrow on account of business. I honestly hate to go and leave you now, I know how hard things have been for you since...well, since the _incident_. But you know, my love, I hardly have a choice in the matter, and I'm afraid you're far too weak to journey to England," he came to sit beside her on the edge of their bed. "Truly Christine, I wish you did not blame yourself so... you must understand that you were never meant to save him. He can't be saved, _ma cherie_, surely you realize that by now."

Christine couldn't bring her eyes to meet Raoul's. Instead she played with his hand, drawing circles on his palm with her fingers as she replied, "Yes, of course, dearest." Then, "How long shall you be gone for?"

Raoul sighed and answered, " A month." He pushed a limp curl out of Christine's eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "Which is why I think it best if you went to stay with Madame Giry and Meg for the time being. I don't want you to stay here without me for so long. Also, it's come to my attention that Giselle and Nicole haven't been exactly...accomodating. So I believe you will agree with me that it is for the best."

Christine looked up to face him, "Certaintly, Raoul. How good of you to let me return to Madame, I've missed them both so." A faint smile crossed her lips and Raoul felt his heart break at the sight of such a small favor cheering her so greatly. His original intent had been to wipe all traces of her past with the Opera Garnier away, even if that meant her adopted family. He had never meant to hurt Christine by doing so. Quite the contrary, he had only hoped to release her of her painful memories and the ghosts of her past. But deep inside he knew that they would never leave her. She seemed to be slipping away from him in front of his very eyes and he could do nothing to stop it.

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It was with a heavy heart that Raoul embarked on his journey to London the following day. He had seen Christine off to the Giry's before ordering his driver to take him to the train station where he would then take a passage to the coast to and leave on the ferry from the port. He had ample time to mull over the events of his life, though he felt too weary to do so. It seemed to him as if he had aged ten years since the fateful opening night of _Don Juan_. Christine could not stop thinking about _him_, and it tore Raoul apart. What ever had Christine found in that monster? He was cold-hearted and cruel--how could Christine love _him_ more than Raoul himself? Of course Christine was sweet and graciously affectionate towards him, but the more distantly compassionate and polite she became, the more sure Raoul was that she still loved that _Angel_ of her's far more than she would ever love him. He remembered rather uncomfortably the last time Christine attempted to return to Erik. Raoul had not let her for obvious reasons. As much as he trusted her word that she would marry him, he could not let her heart to it's own confusing devices. He was sure that just the sight of her _Angel_ would be enough to keep Christine with _him_ forevermore. He remembered how her sobs echoed in the grand foyer as she argued that they had promised Erik to come and see him one last time before they were to be married. _He_ had even gone so far as to request that she bring him an invitation for his 'collection.' That statement had rather amused Raoul, he highly doubted that anyone would ever invite the Devil to such a sacred ceremony. Raoul's thoughts shifted slightly to an area that he had often pondered before--what had happened to _him_ that had destroyed his soul so greatly? Raoul was sure that he had not always been so. "_Even Lucifer had been an angel before he fell..."_

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Christine's heart lifted at the sight of Meg rushing out to meet her, her golden locks whipping around her face in the harsh March wind. "Oh, Christine! It's been far too long!" she exclaimed breathlessly as she pulled her dearest friend into a warm hug. Inwardly Meg noted the changes in Christine's appearance and demeanor with an edge of concern. Hopefully all she needed was some time away from the pressures of being Comtess. "Do come in, _mon amie_, you'll catch your death out here in the cold!" Meg insisted. Christine turned a moment to kiss Raoul goodbye and ask the driver to take her personal items into the Giry's apartment before complying and looping her arm in Meg's.

It felt wonderful to return to the little flat she had once spent Christmas and holiday breaks in. A fire blazed in the hearth and the scent of fresh bread baking in the oven greeted Christine cheerily. "Goodness Christine, it's wonderful to have you staying with Maman and I again, I have missed your company so! And how much there is to catch up on now that you are here! Delicious gossip has been going around during rehersals, and I daresay there've been a few absurd rumors about the Opera Ghost, or rather that Angel of yours! You must tell me what really happened, Christine--I must know the whole truth from you, and you alone." Meg's face instantly became grimly serious as she eyed her friend with curiousity.

"Marguerite Francoise Giry, where on earth have your manners gone?" Madame Giry's voice rang out through the small apartment as she strided into the room, "Christine, _ma petite_," she greeted, embracing the young woman lovingly. " Perhaps you would care to rest a bit before dinner? I'm sure the journey has tired you. Meg, if you please..." The blonde nodded and took Christine's suitcase and led her to the cramped yet cozy guestroom.

Christine could tell as her friend bustled around tidying the room and putting her things away that she was dying to hear the tale of the Opera Ghost. Christine sighed. She had been hoping that Meg would not badger her for details--least of all so soon. She knew that eventually Meg would wear her down, but to be honest, Christine had no idea where to start. What happened the night of _Don Juan _when Erik had taken her Down Once More? Well, the obvious, of course...he had let Raoul and her go... but no--that didn't seem quite right. In his mind perhaps he had let Christine and Raoul go, but to Christine it had seemed that he had chased them out--forcing her to go with Raoul. _You could have stayed with him if you really wanted to. Nothing could have changed your mind if you really loved him._ But she had really loved him, and she still did. It's just that her love was that of a child afraid to grow up. She began to wonder if maturity would ever reach her, or if she would forsake that which she truly longed for out of uncertainty. Two months ago she might have said that she feared Erik, and feared a life with him, but the only thing she had ever feared was the unknown. However, with Erik, nothing was certain. Did she love him enough to surrender to his beautiful darkness? Did she love him enough to renounce the light?

The wind rattled the window panes and tore Christine from her thoughts as she glanced absentmindedly in their direction. Was it her imagination--or no... it couldn't have been. Christine was convinced that she had seen something more under the veil of darkness. _Erik?_ No, she dared not hope, even as she opened the window. _There... see, Christine? There's nothing; stop being so ignorant and childish_. And yet she could have sworn...

_Night time sharpens_

_Heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs _

_And wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses_

_Abandon their defenses_

_Helpless to resist the notes I write_

_For I compose_

_The Music of the Night_

"Erik?" Christine cried out, "Erik, please--where are you?" As soon as his sensual voice had come to her, it faded. "No, Erik, please... wait! Forgive me, Erik; you must forgive me!" But even as she spoke, she sensed his prescence fading. "Erik!" Her last desperate plea caught in her throat...

"Christine," Meg's anxious tone roused Christine from her fitful nightmare-induced sleep. "Christine, _ma cherie, se leve_!"

Slowly, the familiar bedroom came into view, with Meg leaning over Christine's pale form, her golden tresses tickling Christine's flushed cheeks. "Meg?" Christine whispered with some difficulty, "Meg--whatever is the matter?"

"You, of course!" Meg cried out. "Christine, what has happened? How long have you been ill? No matter, I shall call Maman..."

"There's no need, Marguerite. Madame DePerrot must have heard you all the way down on Rue des Charmes!" Madame Giry turned her attention towards Christine. "Here, child, drink this. It should help to bring down the fever and relax you enough to sleep. Meg, go and fetch Christine some supper." Meg nodded in her mother's direction and left the room.

"Madame?" Christine began uncertaintly after a few moments.

"Oui, _ma petite_?" Madame answered as she pulled another comforter out of the crowded closet and tucked it around the girl's slender form.

"I...I have to know..." Christine faltered, at a loss for words, "Erik..."

Madame Giry's eyes clouded over and her guard raised at the mention of the tormented genius that was Christine's Angel. "He is dying, _ma petite_. He has been ill for a long time now. I doubt that he would be bound to this suffering much longer."

"Then I must go to him!" Christine bolted upright.

"No, child, you must not burden him further. Let him pass with the memories he has of you and no more. You have showed him that he is human--to return now would prove of all the splendors so wrongly denied of him. Besides, it would only hurt him further to see how unhappy you are. He only ever feared that you would die bitter and alone. As will he. You cannot save him now."

Tears welled behind Christine's chocolate orbs. '_There was so much beauty in your soul, Erik, so much beauty that I fear now will never see the light of day. In darkness you came to me... And in darkness you left...'_

**se leve get up (note): it should have an accent slanting upwards to the right, however my antique word processor won't allow me to do that...**

**A/N Okay, so there is the second installment for all of you hiding out there and my faithful reviewers... Anywho, my French is atrocious, truly, forgive me! I'd be great at it if I didn't butcher my grammar, so please stick with me and any of you who have mastered the beautiful language, feel free to give advice!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: _Don't own 'em...isn't that a surprise?**

**_A/N: _Thanks so much to those of you who have reviewed/ put this story on story alert. It makes my heart jump for joy (!), especially since my last attempt at a phic got bashed horribly...then again that was two years ago and I deleted it after a while...let's just hope that I do a better job with this one! And please guys, if I get too mary-sueish, give me hints to help. I tend to go overboard on angst and annoyingly-mary-sueish fluff, but I'll do my best to edit the excess out. Still, I'm new at this, so be considerate!**

_**Penmora Zenith: Thanks a bunch for the CC and praise, it was very uplifting:)**_

_**UltimatePhantomPhan: Thanks for the review--you'll have to help me out if my writing goes downhill! And yessssss, the cape twirl is MADD SEXY and if I can fit it in without it being obviously forced, I will whenever possible ;)**_

_**Rider-of-Rohan23: Austin, my twisted sister, thankies for the idea about the italics; I was thinking about doing that, actually. And really, this might sound corny to you, but it's great to get wonderful feedback from such an awesome writer (even if you do happen to be one madd bizcut of a friend)...I thought you abandoned FF!**_

_**BlackxMariah: Gracias, Signora Way. yeah, so that's as far as my Spanish goes :P... It took me a minute to figure out it was you, lol**_

_**Mademoiselle Christine Daae: OOOOh, thanks so much for reviewing! I love your phics so it's extra special to get a review from you :D**_

_**PrimaDonnaKate: Of course I'm not going to kill Erik in this chapter! A phic needs at least four chapters... (evil cackle)**_

_**Rumply Bumply: Hello dearest, sorry, as you know I am a diehard EC phan, so no RC phics most likely, but maybe I'll be nice and put in some RM. Seeing as you are new to FF and probably don't understand a word I just said I'll make it easy on you and write you up a little FF lingo guide, lol!**_

After a yet another restless night of mental torture Christine decided that she would some way return to Erik. Even if it was just to see him for a few moments... she just couldn't bear to think of him dying so utterly alone and so completely broken inside. She figured it would be simple enough... she could slip away at the right moment, perhaps tonight. Yes, tonight it would be.

Christine was debating whether or not to retrieve her book from where it rested on the vanity or attempt to get some actual sleep when Meg knocked on her door and bounded into the bedroom without waiting for an answer. "Oh good, Christine, you're awake!" Her cheery voice filled the room. "I've got some tea ready, I'll go make breakfast while you get dressed. We have to leave for work soon--Maman and I--that is, but I assume you will want to come, no?"

"Well...perhaps another day Meg, I'm still feeling rather ill..." this would make her plan so much easier! She noticed before the final words were out of her mouth that Meg looked rather shocked and disappointed. "On second thought..." Christine gave in to Meg too easily, she always had done anything to see Meg's bright smile, which appeared now as she reconsidered. "Where do you work?"

"You do not remember? No wonder you were not excited! We still work at the Opera Garnier, as I mentioned last night. The damage from the fire was far less than expected, and one of the patrons--a recluse he must be, I've never seen him!-- has spent quite a deal of money to have construction started again. Obviously the stage is destroyed...but most of the dressing rooms, dormitories, and rehersal rooms are still intact."

"I don't recall you mentioning it," Christine mused, "only that 'rumors have been going around rehersals.'" _Zut alors, why did I say that?_ _Hopefully she won't bring it up and I will get a chance this morning to slip away to Erik. I could make this work..._

"Yes, there have been many ridiculous rumors... but I wouldn't know... the truth may be even more ludicrous," Meg shot a calculating glance at her friend.

"I daresay, Meg, I'm awfully hungry. I don't believe I've eaten since the day before yesterday! I'll just go fix something for us, shall I?" Christine stood, but it was pointless with Meg blocking the threshold.

"Why did you leave, Christine? You said you loved him... and yet you left. What was the use of lying to everyone and yourself?" Christine opened her mouth and closed it several times, unsure of how to respond. "Your tea is getting cold." Meg muttered as she spun on her heels and disappeared into her room. Christine remained rooted to her position, dumbfounded, for a few more minutes before closing her door and changing. Why on earth would Meg be so defensive? She didn't actually _know_ Erik, if anything she was rather frightened by him. Enthralled, yet frightened. Christine shook her head, as if to shake the befuddled thoughts from her mind as well.

Getting dressed was a disaster in the tiny anex. First off, Christine spent much more time then she ever had on deciding what to wear. After a good half hour she finally chose a simple, yet elegant crimson evening shift. Would people think her strange to wear an evening shift to accompany the Giry's to work? Probably not, they would assume it was part of the role as Comtesse. She struggled to lace the corset, grunting and eventually tripping over a pair of shoes before Madame came in and finished tying the strings. Madame did not comment on Christine's choice of wardrobe, neither did she mention the quiet brawl that had occured between her two daughters. Madame laced the last ribbons and notified Christine that they would leave in a moment, afterwards proceeding to gather her cane and shawl by the front entrance of the flat. Christine brushed her hopeless mess of curls in an attempt to govern them before following Madame and Meg out into the brisk, March chill.

OOOOO

Christine's breath caught in her throat as the Opera House loomed into view. Memories came flooding back to her, drowning her in their tide. _Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea... _But no, she needed to do this, to put the ghosts of her past behind her so that she could move forward--wherever forward may be. She ascended the grand staircase, trailing behind the Giry's slightly as she absorbed the atmosphere of her past. The emotions heightened as they entered the Opera House and made for the rehersal rooms. The familiar sights and sounds of the Opera House relaxed Christine slightly. She watched as two young dancers hurried down the corridor, giggling madly. They reminded her of past days, when she had both her Angel and her sweetheart. Days during which, for the first time in a long time, she had almost felt whole.

Before she knew it, the threesome had reached the rehersal rooms and Madame called out to Christine before preparing for her class, "Do not wander too far, Christine." She might as well have said_ Don't go after Erik_, but verbal warnings didn't matter to Christine. Meg shot a glance at Christine as her mother said this, but kept her mouth shut as she pulled on her ballet slippers and stepped into the chalk.

Christine seized her chance and and slipped away, heading for her old dressing room. She neared it and grasped the door handle, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She entered the room and another wave of emotion overcame her. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. Hurridly she approached the mirror and began to scour and search for the seam that would reveal the passageway. Her nimble fingers proded along the edges, clawing desperately in hopes of catching the doorway. Her anxiety was heightening rapidly as the minutes passed. How did the mirror open before? Christine wished she could remember, but she had been too entranced by Erik to pay attention to petty details such as how her dressing room mirror slid back. She now regretted her horrible observation skills. And then another thought came to mind. What if Erik had purposely sealed the mirror to keep her out? He wouldn't have done that, would he? As her shaking limbs gave way to anxious hysterics Christine resorted to a less civil approach and swiftly retrieved her vanity chair. Pausing to catch her shortened breath, she made a failed attempt to steady her trembling body before lifting the metal frame and swinging it against the cool glass. Relief flooded through her as the glass shattered making a satisfying sound. She picked her way through the crystal shards and continued on her passage down to the house by the lake.

The journey was much longer and much more terrifying than the time before. Instead of the gloriously haunting music that had soared through her soul before, she was left with a deafening silence. Perchance Erik had already passed. _Absoultely not--I would have known._ She was now left to the threatening whispers that chased through her mind. Anger, grief, guilt, fear, love, nad haterd coursed through her body and spirit making her painfully alive. Sh began to think that she should have planned this out better. She had been positive that Erik would accept her, but now she was not so sure. It well may be that he had moved on and built up the walls once more that she had broken by fate. If he had, there would be very little chance to get to him now. He would be so far gone inside himself. Christine grasped her crucifix. _Please, God, let him be alive. Let him forgive me before the end._

OOOOO

Erik collapsed on the his mother's bed, exhausted from his tiresome tantrum. He had come to only a quarter of an hour ago from an intense stupor. He could not remember much of the past few days, months, or was it years? He had lost track of time ever since Christine had left. Everything now was coated in a haze of morphine. Music could no longer release him from the eternally enternal bleeding, though morphine was not much better. At least it let him forget completely for a few hours...with music he would always remember the emotions. But this last time had been too much. Or not enough, rather. He had not been able to block out the memories that chained him down, no matter how he tried. So in his fury he had taken it upon himself to destroy his house--organ and all. He was not at all satisfied as he expected to be, not any less empty of the agony that he had tried to escape. How he hated what he had done to himself. Why had he been so weak? He had told himself that he was above human characteristics. But once more he had given in--and now he had hell to pay. The demons were livid at him for forgetting himself so. What had happened to his iron will and self-control and self-deprivance? It used to come second nature... he didn't used to feel anything. But he was numb no longer. He had lost the fight and now he knew there would be no reprieve.

A cry jolted him from his thoughts. He turned his gaze towards the gate, the direction in which the call had come. There, soaked and glowing a shade nearly blue, was Christine.

**A/N: Okay everyone, you know what to do! Just press that lovely little rectangular button at the bottom of your screen and take two seconds to tell me what you think. I'm not pleased with how this came out, so please give me feedback and perhaps I can rewrite this chapter. Besides, you fellow author(esse)s know how it feels when you get that enchanting notice telling you that you have a review, so make someone smile today--ME--by reviewing! Wohoo!**


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N:_ Welcome to installment four brought to you from the exciting organ that is my brain! (chuckles to self and Diana as the last six words have been taken from Louise Rennison's series of _the Confessions of Georgia Nicholson_: _Knocked Out By My Nunga-nungas_ (book three) . So, on with the phic!**

**_Disclaimer_: don't own them...yadda, yadda, yadda**

**To my dear reviewers, I'm just posting this quick since it has taken forever for me to write it. I'll reply to your reviews next time.**

**To my amazing beta _Mademoiselle Christine Daae _thanks a bundle!**

**OOOOO**

_Christine hurried down the pathway, feeling the walls under her hands to guide her. She was anxious to return to the house by the lake. So anxious, in fact, that she forgot that she had never explored the idea of what to do once she actually found Erik. So instead of a plan, she was just assuming that everything would fall into place. _

_As she neared the bottom of the stairwell, she could hear shattering, crashing, and yelling. Her heart jumped higher in her throat as she harkened to the angry calls. Erik was clearly throwing one of his appalling tantrums. Christine felt a chill of fear race down her spine. For Erik or herself, she did not know, but both would no doubt be victim to his wicked temper. Christine was lost in her thoughts when her foot plunged through the surface of icy water. She cried out in surprise before cursing herself for not taking a different route. She noticed that by some stroke of sheer luck that the gondola was on her side of the lake. Christine figured that Madame Giry must have come to see Erik for herself, and left this way which would explain the presence of the boat. Too sidetracked to give it much thought, Christine climbed aboard the vessel and began a rapid struggle to manuver herself to the other side._

_The shouting had stopped, Christine noticed, and somewhere in the distance she heard a hauntingly beautiful melody rise into the air. She peered around in the darkness, attempting to locate the sound. It seemed to be coming from the water... she leaned forward and the Siren's call continued. She reached out, her fingertips grazing the water. She did not notice how far she was tipping the boat until it flipped her into the freezing liquid. Christine let out a cry as the water soaked her through and she quickly stood--now waist-deep in the water. She looked up straight into Erik's blazing eyes._

**OOOOO**

Erik turned in time to see Christine sprawled out on the shoreline, her mouth forming a perfect 'O'. A medley of emotions surged through him and by instinct he let anger reign. A newfound energy pushed him from the bed and he found himself muttering obscenities--at her or himself he did not know--as his long legs carried him to the shoreline. "I daresay, I was beginning to think that you had lost your manners, my dear! It's been weeks now since you married le Comte, and I have yet to recieve my invitation. But then again, I assume that you just conveniently _forgot_ your promise--it wouldn't be the first time." Christine felt tears well up behind her eyes and she opened her mouth to protest, but had lost the ability to speak for the moment. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She should have expected this much. Tears coursed down Christine's ivory cheeks. What might have once calmed Erik and pulled him to his senses now irritated him beyond belief. "What is this, my dear? Come now, I don't want a private performance of your magnificent talent for crying now!"

Christine pulled herself together as the taunting continued. She knew that this was Erik's defense mechanism. He had once confessed to never meaning the things he said to her in the heat of the moment... it was simply an attempt to make her less appealing to him--it was his last resort when his love for her grew and swelled to terrifying lengths. Taking a shaky breath she began, "Erik, don't talk like that, please! You know that isn't so. Raoul wouldn't let me return to you, I had to slip away. That's no different than you can expect, though. What did you believe he would do? Did you really think he would say '_Oh my, Christine! Look at the date! I suppose we should go deliver that wedding invitation to your Angel. Then I will smile as he kisses you and you whisper my worst fears confirmed--how you will always belong to Erik and not me! But that won't matter, Little Lotte, we can still have a lovely life with a lovely house in lovely London, after the estate is finished being built of course, with plenty of lovely children that you will never love as much as you would love Erik's children'._Did you really think that I loved him, Erik? That I still love him?" Christine finished her rant, breathing heavily.

"Is this the reason you have come then, to mock me and twist my words? We shall have none of that, Christine. Don't try to fool me now in an attempt for me to die in ignorant and false hope. I don't need your pity--and what is more, I don't _want_ it!" Erik turned and and grabbed his cloak from the chair it lay strewn over. If Christine was going to stay here all night, then by God he would not!

"But Erik--it isn't pity I have to give you! I have fear, not of you, but of your wicked temper. I have hate, but not of you, of those who have hurt you in the past. I have a complete sense of _loathing_, not for you, but for myself. I can't live with myself like this, Erik! I can't live without peace between us." _'I can't live without you.'_ She wanted to say, but the words would not form in her mouth. She couldn't say that to him when she couldn't admit it to herself.

Erik's cloak swirled around him as he pivoted once more to face her. "There never was peace between us, Christine. Peace is utter contentment, and I could have never felt that unless you were mine and mine wholly. Peace comes after acceptance, after love. It cannot come before. I have never known peace, Christine, and I don't expect I ever shall." He looked at her for a long moment before taking his leave. Christine watched as he disappeared into the darkness, a black shadow moving with surreal grace. She had wanted to save him from his Hell. She did not realize that she would have to go into it to pull him back out.

* * *

**Okay, so a few things here. Someone mentioned that the shattering of the mirror would have been loud enough to draw people's attention. However, let us say that everyone was busy elsewhere and did not take much notice if they had actually heard the crash. As far as someone finding the shattered mirror--people would not walk randomly into Christine's old dressing room. Remember, no one heard the noise so there was no need to investigate. I hope that clears things up a bit and doesn't seem too stretched. **


	5. Chapter 5

_Come with me if you dare_

_I want you to experience something_

_Follow me to where shadows disappear_

_For there is no light to create them_

_Take my hand _

_I'll show you to my Hell_

_If you are afraid, then turn and run_

_Far and fast_

_So that no one will remember your_

_Betraying Fear..._

_...we are all afraid_

Christine stood, rooted to the spot where Erik had left her. First she had been the one to flee from the swirling storm of emotions, now it was Erik's turn. She meandered over to a couch made of the same black leather as his gloves and sat down. Christine couldn't help herself, she buried her face against it's cool surface, breathing in Erik's lingering scent. It was so... comforting was the word that came to mind. Strange how Erik's passionate disorder was _comforting,_ of all things, or so it seemed to Christine. '_Oh Erik, where do we go from here?' _she mused.This wasn't at all how it was supposed to be... she was supposed to have found him mourning his loss of her, weak and vulnerable. She was supposed to take his trembling form in her arms and comfort him as she held him close. She was supposed to have kissed away his tears and promised him everything that she had always been too afraid to. But she could do none of that unless he returned. And who was to say when he came back that he wouldn't lash out at her again? Or worse yet, revert to his cold and controlled anger, under whose guise Christine could not determine any of his thoughts or desires. She wondered how deep the damage was from her betraying fear. Was there any of Erik left at all? Or had his soul disolved into a lie... a dead spirit, a living ghost. Try as she might, Christine could not settle herself. Her anger and grief were heightening rapidly and she cursed her stupidity and arrogance. Now tangled in a maze of emotions, she began to understand how Erik's life had fallen apart and kept him prisoner of its morbid twists of fate. For here in the house by the lake, Christine realized that she had her first taste of darkness. She understood how intoxicating and addictive it was. For darkness is a war of power, and power is the darkness's substitute for love. When all else falls to ruins, and emotions have reached crushing levels, we are forced to revert to struggle for power. Power masquerades its deciet and tempts the shattered souls. Those who are not whole are slave to its siren call, its hypnotic carress that melts the senses to fit its own, sickening mold. Power rises above us all, great and terrible in its beauty yet at the same time made hideous by the fleeting loyalty. And somewhere in the back of her mind, Christine saw what Erik never could--power has no master, neither does darkness. It reighns above all as the ultimate Ruler of the weak, kept at bay from the strong only by light itself. Darkness can only corrupt when a defense has been let down and a gateway to the soul is opened.

Christine awoke in the same position she had drifted off in. The leather couch embracing her in place of her lover, their shared scent manipulating her senses. It was cold and damp down here in the cavernous basement and Christine wished that she had thought to bring a shawl. More than that, she wished that Erik had returned to her. If only he had come back, perhaps he would've given her the chance to let her prove her love to him. She would do anything... anything at all. He already reigned over her mind, soul and heart completely... there was nothing but physical distance keeping him from reigning over her body as well. As she sat, shivering in the chill air, she finally allowed herself to admit it--she wanted, no, _needed_ Erik. She longed to feel his body pressed against hers, entwined in a lover's embrace, and to see the passion radiating from his eyes, his very soul. Didn't he realize how willing she was? She hid her face in her hands as she began to weep. _"Don't let it be too late, Erik, forgive me, please, forgive me." _

When Christine opened her eyes again it was to a most welcoming sight. There, in front of her, was Erik. He had appeared to be watching her in her fitful sleep, and the look in his eyes was ungaurded and pleading. For that split second before his civil and dispassionate facade returned, Christine saw an emotion which she had never been able to recognize before--a regret that ran deep sided with a longing that held strong. How much he had taught her, through experiences and words! How much he had changed her--who was to say it was for the better?--for good. He had taken her small, meaningless world and given her new life. He had presented her with feelings such as she had never known before... he had whisked her away from the world of cold, unfeeling light, of judgements, of rules, and shared with her his world. His world was so beautiful, filled with music that soared as it interlaced with the soul... music that painted a dream-land colored by adoration and desire. The spirits here were clothed in sparkling faerie-dust and starlight. The lullaby of the nightengale deepened the tangibility of this fantasy world, and for a time, Christine could forget of the world above her, bustling along at a rapid pace with no time to truly let the soul wander. How could she had ever doubted her love for him? How could he, who was so expert at reading her like an open book, not see those intentions muddled only slightly by confusion?

Christine held his gaze for a long while, trying to convey her feelings for him through that connection as she found her voice. _God, let him see it... don't deny us this any longer. Help me teach him to forgive and to trust. Help me teach him to love without fear. Help him teach me to live once more..._ Christine slipped from her position on the couch and approached Erik slowly, her head spinning from the sudden movement. She steadied herself before begining her plea again, "Erik, I..." her voice broke and two tears trailed down her porcelin cheeks. She took a deep breath, willing herself to continue. "I am honestly so, so sorry for everything I have done to you and myself. I never...never meant to betray you or disappoint you. But I did, and because of that I cannot live with myself. I can't go on unless I am sure that you know where my heart truly lies. And by your previous actions, I'm not sure that you do." Christine summoned her strenght to continue. His eyes were void of emotion yet again, and she felt her heart rebreaking as she noted his obvious lack of reaction. "Erik, I love you. I have for a long time now, I just didn't recognize it. You must believe me when I say that Raoul would never have made me as happy as I know you can. He was good to me, and at one time he may have been my perfect match... but I've changed, Erik. My love for Raoul was so simple, and our life was so easy and predictable. He was reserved and stable and compassionate... but I have learned since then that it is not enough. For I would rather spend my lifetime with you, my _love_, no matter what that entails. I accept that our life would be challenging and complex much like our love, but the passion and devotion I feel towards you would make it all worth it. Raoul is nothing more than a memory to me now, Erik... a beautiful memory of my first childhood sweetheart that I will keep locked away in my mind to treasure. But he has no hold over me, Erik, he never has. Not in the way that you do... if only you could see how much I love you, Erik. I pray to God that my love for you will be enough... but it is nothing if you will not have it." Silence filled the air once more, disturbed only be Christine's softly ragged breathing as the tears coursed down her cheeks. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Erik's. How badly she wanted him... his mind, his body, his soul. He possessed her, but would he ever let her within? He kissed her back, gently at first, then harder. The passion and love conveyed in the kiss gave hope to Christine. _Maybe I am not too late._When the kiss broke Christine spoke up once more. "Give me one more chance, Erik. Just one more..." Erik looked at her long and hard, yet his resolve had softened and he had fell under her spell as she wove her apology and declaration into a enchanting plea. "All right, Christine...I shall give you one last chance. Mistakes, while potentially grave, can be forgiven and the debtor redeemed. _Un chance encore pour mon ange."_

**OOOOO**

**A/N: So, there we are. The poem in the begining is actually one of mine...it was written with a completely different intent, but I remembered a phrase that I liked in it so I added it in. I also went back and made some corrections...the poem in 'Chapter 2' seemed forced, so I switched it to the traditional _Music of the Night_. That particular poem will appear again later;) The French is slapdash, last-minute, so forgive me if it is incorrect. I would have sent this chapter to my beta, but I just found out that I will not be near a computer capable of uploading my stories during my week trip to visit my aunts, so I wanted to quick get this up there. To my reviewers, I love you all, you are my motivation and my inspiration! Keep 'em coming!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Alright duckies, this chapter starts the fun! There is a bit of angst and language in here...hopefully I'll start to get comfortable with writing fluff soon. You could always _review_ to inspire me!**

**Disclaiemer: No, I don't own anything, except a few poems I add here and there. I don't own the music, it is by Sir Andrew Llyod Webber. I only own the few changes I made, and that is nothing to be proud of...**

**Half a moment! I DO own something! I own the wonderful satisfaction of breaking the mirror in this phic. It's terribly theraputic, I advise any of you with self-confidence issues to go break a mirror RIGHT NOW! I'm not joking, you know...honest**

**And finally to MY BETA: I am so sorry, I do not know what is wrong but it seems that my emails do not go through to you. Please try emailing (or PMing me) and we'll see if that will open up the connection again. Friggin' idiots! I hate techonology!**

**OOOOO**

Erik leaned down to kiss Christine once more, and as their lips united the passionate flame flared once again, lighting up the dark inside their souls. The barriers that Erik had worked so hard to build up began to crumble in a way that only Christine could make them fall. How badly he wanted to resign to the burning emotions and physical longing that resided inside him--how badly he wanted to love! But fear held him back as always, for in his mind he still did not deserve to love or be loved. He was a disgusting creature of darkness, and he knew it. He didn't deserve a seraph of the light. _Oh, Christine..._

Christine sensed his unease and pulled back for a moment to look into his emerald eyes. "Erik, I choose _this_ life, none other. I choose _this_ man," she reached up and removed the white kidskin mask, "but most of all, I choose _this_ love to carry me through my life." Christine gently carressed his mangled flesh before standing on her toes to kiss his ravaged cheek. Her lips moved like butterflies aross his skin, light and breathy, leaving a tingling sensation where they had made contact with his cheek. He stood, rooted to the spot, in awe at her obvious devotion and adoration. The last of his anger diminished as her lips captured his once more. He cursed himself for falling from his position of power. He could not get his emotions under check, and as such was going to pay for it later.

Christine was a complete wreck. She was emotionally exhausted yet physically anxious and excited beyond recall. The swoop in her lower abdomen--the feeling that she had missed a step descending a flight of stairs--made her giddy and nervous. Her head was spinning as she lost herself in the kiss, deepening it. Her tongue bade entrance to Erik's mouth, and he granted it gratefully. She felt the heat in her body rise rapidly as their tongues danced together, exploring eachother with graceful, yet intensifying passion. Christine was certain that her head would have fallen off her neck and rolled away if Erik had not been holding her so closely; one arm wrapped around her wasp-thin waist, and the other hand supporting her head, two fingers pressing seductively into the skin at the nape of her neck. The ache of longing was dizzying and Christine pressed herself harder against him. She let her hands slip from their position tangled in his thick, black hair...down his neck, his collarbone, his well-defined chest... she could feel his arousal against her and she let out a moan, guiding his head downward so as to continue his ministrations down her neck. She reveled in his touch. His numerous kisses and nips trailing down her neck were engraved into her mind and body, burning with intimacy. _Oh,Erik..._

Her voice brought Erik back to the present harshly. His head snapped up and his grip on her lithe frame loosened imediately. Her eyes flew open and a look of hurt confusion crossed her fair features. "Erik...why..."

Erik put a finger to her full lips to silence her. He shook his head and turned from her as hot tears formed in his eyes. "I am sorry, Christine. Forgive me...forget me." And with that he disappeared into the shadows of his darkened house. Christine stayed where she was, transfixed. What had she done wrong? She had confessed her love, proved her love...what did she forget?

**OOOOO**

Erik threw himself upn the organ bench and began to play. Instantly the lair was filled with his music, dark and lost and longing. The blackness cloaked him in its false comfort as his deft fingers pounded the keys, their crystal pitch ringing out into the chilling air. _'What the hell were you doing? Have you lost all sense of sanity? You are a monster, a demon--how dare you corrupt her so! You vulgar disgrace of a human...to think that you would force your hideous self on her innocent beauty! Damn you to Hell, you bastard! You've done wicked things in your time, Erik, so many wicked things...but none so as wicked as this!' _

'What is this treachery you speak of? She pleaded with me to take her--she _pleaded_ with me! How could I deny her, however uncouth and obscene her demands are?'

_'You fool, you **liar**! You would sink so low as to convince yourself Christine **wanted** you? Nobody could **ever** want a gargoyle such as yourself! You foul and heinous rouge! How your confidence deceivs you!'_

Erik cried out and rushed to the nearest mirror, whipping the thick velvet drapings from their rightful spot. The sight of his reflection inspired a surge of self-hatred and Erik lost himself in rage and grief as the years washed over him... _"He stared at the glass with such dumb, disbelieving horror before he screamed and flung himself at the mirror, pummeling the glass with his clenched fists in a mad frenzy of terror. The glass shattered. Shards flew in all directions, embedding themselves in his wrists and fingers, so that suddenly he was bleeding from dozens of lacerations. But he went on screaming and pounding the fractured mirror with bloody hands like a wild animal that was out of its mind with fear."_ The memory faded as Erik sank to his knees on the floor of his house, his lair. He was vaguely aware of two, small hands leading him from his most fiery corner of inferno and into the cooling bliss of unconciousness. He embraced this momentary release from living and fell into a familiar blackness that welcomed him to the only place he felt at ease.

**OOOOO**

Erik awoke to find Christine mending his damaged arms, the tracks where her tears had run apparent on her pale cheeks. She was biting her full bottom lip as if to help detach herself from the situation. He could feel her fingers trembling as she cleansed his bloody arms--she must have already removed the offending shards. "What did I do wrong, Erik?" Christine's voice broke, betraying her tone of indifference. Erik turned his gaze to meet her eyes, confused by her question.

"What did _you_..."

"It must have been something. Please Erik, tell me so I can be sure never to do it again. Was it something I said? Please, Erik, don't tell me it's my prescence in general. I don't think I could bear to go...I can't leave you now anyways. You're in a right state." She frowned and nodded towards the bloodied mess she was working on.

Erik sighed. What could he tell her? How could she possibly understand the things that went through his mind..."No, it's not that Christine. It's just..." He shifted his gaze up to meet her's once more. The look on her face said it all--the way her eyebrows rose together in worry, the widening of her already wide eyes. He was shocked by her expression; she hadn't been lying when she said she loved him. "How could you love me, love this?" he motioned towards his unmasked face.

"Oh," Christine breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh," she murmured again before chuckling softly, almost mocking herself. "Of course, how could I be so selfish to think that I was the cause of your discomfort?" She shook her head briefly, her chesnut curls bouncing as she did so. "Your deformity does not _define_ you Erik... you are a _person. _Don't think for one moment that I will resond to you the same way the rest of the world has. I know it will be difficult for you to believe me, but you _must. _I love you, Erik. You're beautiful to me. Nothing will ever change that. _I promise you that all I say is true. Trust me, that's all I ask of you." _She smiled and brought her lips to meet his. "Come now, I'll finish bandaging you up and then we'll rest for a bit. I daresay, we both need it." Christine continued her ministrations, humming softly to herself. How pretty she looked in that moment, Erik thought, how innocent and unearthly. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her finding delight in caring for him. It was completely endearing and comforting to know that for the first time, some one really and truly needed him. But what is more she wanted him.

Christine hurried to clean up her supplies and change into a nightshift. She returned and slipped under the covers, tenderly placing Erik's arms around her and snuggling up to him with her forhead pressed against his chest. He was shocked by her movements, but pleased nonetheless, and simply settled down further into the heavy comforter and soft sheets. Then, quietly, Christine began to return the favor that Erik had paid her for so many nights in her life. He listened to her melodic voice rise and fall over the notes, shaping the words in her delicate mouth.

_I will share with you_

_One love, One lifetime_

_I will lead you from your solitude_

_How I want to be right here, _

_Beside you!_

_I promise you_

_That all I say is true_

_Trust me, _

_That's all I ask of you_

Christine sighed with relief and nestled into Erik's arms, exhausted both physically and emotionally. But she knew that the fight for their love wasn't over yet. It would be long and difficult, but she was sure it would end in rewarding redemption. Now that the first step had been made, Christine knew that she could help Erik overcome the hardships in their new life. Together, they would face the cruelty of the world, and together they would triumph.

**_A/N:_ So much for starting the healing stuff, huh? Oh well, let's let 'em suffer a bit longer. Makes everything else sweeter!**

_**REVIEW--where have you all been? I'm so un-inspired because of lack of reviews...if you guys would give me FEEDBACK maybe I could type faster... (hinthint)**_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: HAPPY FRIDAY!**

**Okay, time to go back to the real world for a bit (ie. Meg, Madame, and eventually...duhduhduh...Raoul; this means a filler--still review though!). As much as I'd love for our favorite couple to stay downstairs, making out and happily unaware of the world around them, I cannot. Damn realism!**

**Disclaimer: Ok, by now you should all know that I don't own this!**

**_Note: to Lady Wen_--I love your email address! Gerry is soooooo hott as Marek in _Timeline_. For all of you who haven't seen it, go watch it right now!**

**IIIII**

**_I'm sorry it took so long to update, I'm trying to get faster at it, though. Please have patience and REVIEW, I cannot stress enough how inspiring that is!_**

**OOOOO**

_'Merde,'_ Meg muttered under her breath as she stepped into Christine's old dressing room. The glass shards from the mirror glistened from where they lay in the flickering torchlight of the passageway. Meg neared the broken mirror, peering down the hall. _'Maman will be none too pleased.'_

"Nor very surprised," Madame Giry stated from where she stood. "Come, Marguerite. It is not your place to intrude upon Monsieur Erik's privacy." Meg scowled, but obeyed her mother and headed out the door when her mother laid a hand on her arm. "Return home, I shall be there in a few hours. I needn't tell you not to alert the press with news of Erik and Christine." Her contenence was stern, her lips set in a grim line.

Madame Giry waited until she saw her daughter disappear into the network of corridors that made up the Opera House. Then, arming herself with a lighted candle, she turned and headed for the usual passage that took her to the far shore.

**OOOOO**

Erik awoke in a position only plausiable in his dizziest daydreams. His arms were wrapped around Christine in a gentle embrace and she had snuggled up against his chest. Carefully, so as not to awaken her, he left the bed and headed for the kitchen. He wasn't much of a food fan, but Christine looked so sickly and frail and he figured it'd be best to get her to eat something.

He started harshly when he came upon Madame Giry's frame blocking the kitchen doorway. "Antoinette," he nodded his head to her. "To what might we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Madame Giry shook her head, attempting to hide a soft chuckle. By all rights she should be furious with Christine for disobeying her wishes, but found that under the circumstances it was difficult to stay angry for long. Still, she would try. "I am here to collect Christine." The edge of her tone was betrayed by the sparkle in her eyes.

"She is resting at the current time. It would be in your best interest not to disturb her, she needs her rest. She may return with you when she will advantage from doing so, and not before."

Madame made a somewhat unelegant grunt of indifference as Erik walked over and lit the samovar. She sat herself upon one of the chairs and watched Erik with a carefully trained eye. It was somehow intriguing to watch this him--this mysterious, dark, passionate man--do something so domestic as fix tea and sandwiches. Antoinette laughed to herself at the thought of having a tea party with the infamous Opera Ghost. But of course, she would only ever see him as Erik, the broken soul who was obsessed with Christine Daae.

"Madame?" a gentle voice greeted with a level of uncertainty. Antoinette turned her attention to the lithe figure standing in the doorway. "Was there something you required of Erik or I?"

Antoinette was slightly startled by the remark. "Is there something I require...? I daresay there is, _ma petite_, you've been down here the whole day in case you had forgotten."

Christine glanced at her serrogate mother with mild interest as she took the toasted bagette and soft brie that Erik offered her. "Not at all, Madame." Antoinette glared at her, waiting for an explanation. Christine didn't seem to feel the same about what she was required to say. "As much as I respect you and honor your wishes, Madame, perhaps you have forgotten that I am, in fact, a grown woman. I am capable of making my own decisions with quite valid reasons behind them." _And while I often choose to share those with you, I am not obligated by any means to do so each time._ Christine bit her tongue at the last part of her remark. Madame did not deserve to be talked to in such a manner.

There was a somewhat akward pause before Madame began, "Well, begging your pardon, Madame de Changy. I did not realize that as a mother I was overstepping my boundaries. Clearly though, I've forgotten--which seems to be a recurring theme, doesn't it?--that my place does not extend to all the rights as a conventional mother has." Antoinette felt caged and threatened, and thought it best to leave at the soonest possible moment. Which would be now. "I can see I have overstayed my welcome. I'll come again then, in a week to check up on the both of you. Until then, Monsieur, Madame..."

Christine felt as if she had been slapped across the face. She didn't often argue with Madame, usually she left that for Meg to do. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed in her relationship with her family since she married Raoul. It was if they had taken it as a sign that she no longer needed them... moving up in to noble class had rendered her memory of those she held dear. True, she hadn't visited them since her marriage, but she had written. She would have, had it not been for the expression on Raoul's face when she suggested that they go and call on the Giry's. He had looked at her rather forlornly and the guilt was apparent in his voice. _"Oh, Lotte, I wish it were that simple. But the point is, I want you to be able to forget all of these wicked twists of poor fate that have befallen you... I don't want to lose you to your past. I could never, ever forgive myself if I did. You must believe that I say these things only because I love you so. I just want you to be able to move on...so that you can learn to love me the way you used to."_ His response had brought tears to her eyes. How badly she wanted to kiss his soft lips and tell him not to fear, for she would always love him, and only him. But she couldn't, for it wasn't true. And in the silence that followed that statement as she hugged him close to her, the words that were never spoken became clear in both their minds, if only for a second. Raoul's Little Lotte was gone... instead she was replaced with a strikingly beautiful young woman, darker and more complex than he remembered. A woman who might have been wed to Raoul through a sense of compassion and security, but who belonged to her Angel through a sense of passion and unrequited love that her childhood sweetheart could never compete with. First love and true love are two very different things...

**OOOOO**

Raoul arrived in London ten days after his departure from Paris. The journey had been uneventful, yet pleasant enough. Tonight, as his first night here, he had been invited to the 'Vernal Ball' hosted by the James family. The James' were high-to-do English nobles that found friendship in the cousins he was staying with. He felt a twinge of guilt and sorrow as he left the house with his relatives, painfully aware of Christine's abscence. She never failed to make these tiring dinners worthwhile. While Raoul had always found enjoyment in the socializing, they became draining after a few hours as he wasn't one to actively engage in petty gossip. Although, he couldn't deny the humor in the absurd tales that people came up with about one another. Christine slipped from the foreground of his mind as the carriage approached the James' estate. He dutifully followed his cousins into the magnificant mansion.

Raoul couldn't help but admire the fine architecture of the building. It dated back to the Renaissance period, when the castle first came under ownership of the Baron Daniel James. He couldn't admit to being well-versed in the subject, but nonetheless found the design regal in its appearance. They were ushered into the grand ballroom and were instantly announced to the public that was attending. Raoul still felt himself as only half-there, and made his way to the darkened outskirts of the ballroom in an attempt to distance himself from the multitude. Raoul had always been the outgoing one of the two of them--his reputation of the suave, young gentleman preceeded him and people were often drawn to his golden charm. That was what Christine once told him had been the first thing to attract her to him. How he wished his Little Lotte had been strong enough to accompany him here! His mind strayed further and he began to wonder how returning to the Giry's had gone. Raoul hoped deeply that her reaquaintance with her old family hadn't sparked her previous interest in _him_. That was the last thing he needed, Raoul decided, to come home to find that she had left him for Erik and was now living with him in that sewer of a basement. Raoul amused himself by picturing Christine attempting to persuade her Phantom to redecorate his home with cheerier colors--hues of rose, lilac and lemon. He stifled a chuckle in spite of himself, for that was a very comedic image indeed.

"Raoul de Changy! Is it really you?" Raoul turned to see a friend from his time in the military, Thomas Grant, and very pretty young woman standing beside him.

Raoul chuckled and reached out to shake the man's hand, "Pleasure to see you again, Thomas. And who might this lovely lady be?" Raoul flashed the girl a dazzling smile. She felt lightheaded by his cordial manner and eager attention.

"Ah, this, my dear Vicomte, is my sister, Elisabeth Grant." From the tone in his voice, Raoul could tell that Thomas was secretly hoping the two would hit it off. He had often dropped hints about his sister when they were in the navy together. It was always _, "You know, Raoul, I do believe you and my sister would make a stunning couple. She's quite the beauty." _ or_,"My Raoul, you and Elisabeth would get on so well!"_ Raoul had wondered about her ever since, but once Christine came into his life he had abandoned all thoughts of her completely. Well, almost completely. Some nights when Christine had cried herself to sleep, sure that Raoul hadn't heard her, he would sit up thinking about how things could have been. Perhaps despite their endeavors, they would never be a perfect fit. It was in these moments that he couldn't help but wonder if there was someone else out there for him. He loved Christine deeply, but the love that she gave to him wasn't as strong or as much as that which she bestowed upon Erik. Raoul wasn't selfish or puerile though, he understood that Erik had probably needed Christine far more than he needed her. But still Christine remained loyal to him and in return, Raoul gave her the world.

Regardless of his devotion towards Christine, Raoul could not help but admire Elisabeth as the threesome made small talk. Elisabeth's charm matched, if not exceeded Raoul's own, and he found her witty humor entertaining. Several times he caught himself laughing without reservation at the comments she made. Her nature was warm and kindhearted, and Raoul had the feeling that he had known her his whole life. Then, of course, there were her physical attributes.

She was beautiful, though very different from Christine. While Christine had been willowy and lithe, Elisabeth had obtained the rounded curves more becoming of a young woman. Her features were fair as Christine's, though different in structure--perhaps less delicate but nonetheless pleasing. An oval face was framed by golden tresses that cascaded to the middle of her back in subtle, rolling waves. Her eyes were a clear grey, a calm and comforting shade that reminded Raoul of the sky in winter. Delicate lips curved upward in a shy smile, betraying her age with their innocence. For a split second, Raoul could not help the swooping sensation in his stomach as he studied Elisabeth. His mind questioned him once more before returning it's loyalty to Christine. Perchance, in another life, Elisabeth Grant was meant to be his.

**Note to my dear friend and beta _Mademoiselle Christine Daae_: Okay, so I have decided upon something new. Since sending you my chapters doesn't seem to be working well (when you reply only the first paragraph of the edited chapter comes up) please just let me know where my mistakes are in here. For example: 'You need a comma after "again" and before "Thomas" in the fourth paragraph, third section.' And thanks dearie for being such a sweetheart the other day!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, yet another chapter up! I know these aren't as riviting or anything, but it still would mean the world to me if you would read and _review_! I love you all, you really brighten my day!**

**Look for the four-word Kay phrase!**

_**NOTE: Also, Christine discusses the unmasking events: please realize that I have exaggerated Gerik's deformity (very slightly) in the sense that yes, Christine was terrified at first (because I exaggerated it slightly and a real person would not be so frightened by Gerik's appearance) but then, like all of us phans, she realized that it's not as bad as it seems. First impressions are always so dramatic!**_

**Disclaimer: I own only the original characters (Lady Elisabeth) and the plot. The poems--unless noted otherwise--are mine as well. This one is clearly not mine, any phan would recognize Sir Webber's work!**

**Mademoiselle Christine Daae: Hello gorgeous! Are you there anymore? I updated...twice! And I still need your help:) please drop me a note, dearie!**

**OOOOO**

Erik awoke early the next morning after a dream sequence of painful memories. He closed his eyes, letting the calm wash over him and took in his surroundings. By rights he shouldn't be haunted so--Christine was slumbering peacefully beside him, curled up against his chest. Why did these recollections still force themselves into his mind when his life was finally looking up? It didn't make sense...the past two weeks had been the best of his life. For so long he had just wanted to be in Christine's prescence and to feel like a normal man. Now, after years of longing, she gave that to him. Never in his time did he remember anyone doing things for and with him the way Christine did. He recalled the first morning after she had returned with a smile--he had come into the kitchen after composing to find her making breakfast. She had looked so adorable--and somewhat strangely arousing--with flour dusted in light streaks across her cheeks and nose, greeting him with a wide grin and a kiss as she informed him that they would be dining on crepes and strawberries. Not to mention that her cooking was superb, a praise that Erik had never given previously due to his lack of interest in proper nourishment. There wasn't one moment these past two weeks that gave Erik a reason to think that she didn't speak the truth when she confessed her love. It was not lost on him how she constantly touched him, whether it was laying her hand on his arm when she was speaking or snuggling (Erik was dumbfounded that such a word had been added to his vocabulary!) up to him at night while he told her stories of his travels over Europe and Russia by the roaring fire. So why would he keep having these dreams? Where did he get the subconcious belief that she was going to leave him? He couldn't lose her, not again, it would surely kill him. Quietly, so as not to disturb his sleeping beauty, he climbed from the bed and headed over to the piano.

His fingers caressed the ivory keys deftly as he coaxed his melody from the instrument. Then, almost as softly as his playing, he began to sing.

_Shamed into solitude_

_Shunned by the multitude_

_I learned to listen_

_In the dark, my heart heard music_

_I long to teach the world_

_Rise up, and reach the world_

_No one would listen_

_I alone could hear the music_

_Then at last, a voice in the gloom_

_Seemed to cry, "I hear you!_

_"I hear your fears,_

_"Your torment and your tears!"_

_She saw my lonliness_

_Shed in my emptiness_

_No one would listen_

_No one but her_

_Heard as the outcast hears_

_No one would listen_

_No one but her_

_Heard as the outcast hears_

Christine came up behind him and placed her small hand on his broad shoulder as the last note wavered into the air. He turned to face her and she swallowed back a sob as she noted the painful sheen in his tear-filled eyes. Christine pulled Erik into her arms, running her fingers through his thick, ebony hair as he wept silently, cradled against her chest. Under other circumstances, this position would have been extremely inticing, but in this case she brought him comfort and devotion alone.

After he seemed to relax in her embrace, Christine slipped onto the bench beside him and kissed him full on the lips. She pulled back for only a moment to gently trace the outline of his jaw. He was so beautiful to her, and inwardly she felt a rush of glee--he was her angel, and her's alone. Only through her eyes would he be Erik, the man she had fallen in love with. To everyone else he would simply be the Phantom, a ghoul of the darkness, an avenging angel of Hell.

Christine leaned in again, pressing her lips against his with passionate vigor and wrapped her arms around him, one snaked about his slender waist and the other caressing the nape of his neck. She eased Erik's willing mouth open and met his tongue with hers in a dance of lust. Blood rushed through her, her heart pounding in her ears. She bit his lower lip, sucking with an overwhelming need as he moaned against her lips. He trained her mouth to match his once more before begining his own exploration. Christine reveled in his touch as he left a burning trail down her cheek, chin, and neck. Animalistic lust pulsed through Erik's veins as he devoured her neck and collarbone, making his way down to her heaving chest. Christine's head dropped back and a soft, "Oh!" escaped her as his lips brushed against the top of her brests. she pulled him closer to her, pushing herself against him with the desire to close the space between their aching bodies.

Erik's deft fingers had just begun to undo the hook and eye clasps along the back of her dress when an alarm went off overhead. Christine jumped at the sudden sound.

_"Biase!" _Erik spun around and hastened over to the mantlepiece, trying to find the switch to turn the alarm off. After succeding he jumped into the gondola and began his journey to the other side at a rapid pace. Whoever had interrupted them had hell to pay!

Madame Giry heard Erik mumbling curses as he rowed over to where she stood. She pulled herself upt o full height in an attempt to call upon all of her bravery. Though she knew him well, Madame had never left all fear of his tantrums behind.

"You had better have a _damn_ good reason for coming here at this God-forsaken hour!" Erik hissed through clenched teeth.

Antoinette chuckled to herself, it was nine in the morning--hardly a 'God-forsaken' hour for Erik--and he appeared rather..._hot and bothered_. "Well, I do believe I have a valid enough reason, yes. This came for Christine in the mail yesterday, I meant to bring it down but rehearsals ran late...those ballet rats are clumsier than a herd of elephants!" Erik nodded and rolled his eyes, impatient for Antionette to finish. Sensing his impatience, she produced the said letter from her cloak pocket and handed it to Erik. "Oh, and Meg requested that I invite Christine to tea today at noon-thirty on her behalf. She does miss her so..." Madame smiled faintly recalling some distant memory of her two daughters frolicking about the gardens in springtime, or something within that nature.

"If that's all then..." Erik scowled at her, trying to give her the hint.

Madame shook herself from her revereie and reminded "Noon-thirty, then."

"Noon-thirty," Erik confirmed.

As Erik retreated to his house he took a gander at the letter Christine recieved. His suspicions were right--it was from Raoul. Ever-curious and overly-catious at any attempts to encourage Christine's flight, he opened it very carefully, peeling the wax from the paper with tedious precision. Gently, he placed the envolope on the dry floor of the gondola and opened the letter.

Erik fury mounted with each word. In a fit of cold and (somewhat) concealed rage, Erik ripped the note and scattered the pieces in the water. His anger subsided only when Christine came into viewm smiling coyly and dropping her dressing robe.

**OOOOO**

"Christine!" Meg squealed with delight as she threw her arms around her dearest friend. "Oh my, Christine, you look so lovely! Is that dress new? I don't remember anything quite that shade of sky!" Meg's insistent chatter continued as she bustled about the kitchen fixing English tea--with milk. She continued rambling on about Christine's wardrobe for the next ten minutes before finally settling down in her chair with two steaming cups of tea and a plate of big, flaky croissonts. "Now. Christine. I must know. What of you and Monsieur l'Fantome? The whole story I mean, from soup to nuts." The look of complete and alert sincerity on Meg's face almost made Christine laugh aloud. Of course Meg was one for gossip, it was just so entertaining how much she got caught up in the truth as well, finding it as magical as fiction. Christine hesitated a moment and Meg instantly jumped in, "I'll keep quiet about this one, I swear. You know I don't tell _your _secrets."

"I know," Christine acknowledged and took a sip of her tea to buy her time to think. After a moment of utter silence she began her tale, " As you well know, and believe by now I'm sure, he began tutoring me three months before my debut in Hannibal. He came to me before that, though...he used to sing me to sleep at night. He was just a voice I heard in my dreams at first, but throughout time he became more and more tangible. And the more real he became the deeper in love I fell with him." Christine's eyes glazed over as she reminisced, "I remember the night he first let me see him. It was more like a dream then anything else--he sang to me, drawing me towards him with the awe-inspiring power of his voice...somehow, I don't recall exactly how, but somehow he slip the mirror back in the blink of an eye and he reached out and took me by the hand. He led me down through his labyrinth of darkness, and strange enough the darkness no longer scared me, though perhaps that was simply the effect of his protective sheltering on me. Yes, I know that sounds odd...the one person that is feared most is the one I look to for security and comfort. But Fate has an odd way of weaving our lives...But Meg, I did something horrible to him the next morning...I betrayed him for the first time, ripping the mask from his unsuspecting face...and it was awful, Meg! It was so disfigured and terrifying, so deformed and mangled! But Meg, oh Meg, then I looked again at him as he cursed me in his grief riddled fury, and I saw...I saw! He was just a man beneath it all, the features were mutilated but the structure was surely human, just a very pitiful imitation. I realized my treachery, and immediately hated myself for it, I hated myself! How could I do that to him? Meg, if only you had seen the look in his eyes--he was so vulnerable, so fragile! And in that moment I loved him even more, whether it was borne of pity or not, I cannot say, but I know that my love for him no longer is. But I am getting ahead of myself. His tempertantrum spent his energy and he fell under a coughing fit. I was petrified that he would die and I would be there to witness it alone, locked forever in this tomb without his living soul. I gave him back his mask before he passed out. I stayed to take care of him for the following two weeks, acting in fear that was rapidly turning to love. If only I had the courage to love him with my whole heart...but then he returned me to this world and I became lost in the everyday bustle I had so willingly left behind for his dreamland. And then there was Raoul! Oh, my dear, sweet Raoul! The saver of my scarf, the teller of dark tales, the capture of my child's heart. But things were changing then...half of me was afraid to grow up, the other half was yearning to burst free from the chains of adolescence. After Buquet's demise I just became so frightened. I wasn't mature enough, I was too fearful of uncertainty and passion...Raoul was safe. He would answer for me and he would shield me from ever having to do something myself. He let me be a part of him so that I didn't need to be my own person any longer. And at that time, I embraced it. But now...I realize how wrong I was. For choosing him, for betraying Erik, for lying to everyone. I only hope it's not too late for us...I hurt him so much...even when there was no soul left to hurt. How could he ever forgive me? How will he ever learn to trust me?" Christine wiped the tears from her face and looked down into her empty teacup.

"Oh, ma cherie," Meg hastened to Christine's side and wrapped her slender arms around the brunette's wracking frame. She rocked her gently and cooed to her as she stroked her chocolate curls. "Of course he will forgive you and trust you...you must give it time, is all."

"Oh Meg, I do hope it will be so. But what of Raoul? He is only staying in London for a month...he's already been gone two weeks...that leaves me six weeks seeing as it takes two weeks to travel from England to France to figure a plan. Oh, if only I knew where he was right now...if there was a way to convince him to stay...I'm sure I'll figure out something once he begins to write to me..." Christine trailed off, desperately trying to think of something.

"Well what did he say in the letter that came for you today?" Christine looked increduously at Meg as soon as the words left the blonde's mouth. After a moment of dawning realization Meg cried out in ernest," He didn't give it to you, did he? Oh, of course we should have expected this! Why on earth would he even _consider_ giving you a letter that your absent husband sent you? Certaintly he would not want to remind you of your previous obligations in life. How stupid of us to expect that his good manners would carry over into his love triangle!" Meg trilled off, an odd mixture of annoyed and giddy. The romantic tragedy that had unfolded in front of Christine was so stimulating and enrapturing that she couldn't help but feel as if she too had just shared a declaration of undying love with her sweetheart. Of course Christine's ordeal was a bit darker than that...

"I'm terribly sorry, Meg, but I must go. Perchance we may do this again sometime soon?" Christine was in a rush to get home. _Home? Why on earth am I calling it 'home'--it's hardly suitable to live in!_ **_Don't be silly, Christine! Of course you're referring to it as 'home.' It's the place you feel most at ease at...it's Erik's 'home'..._**

Meg laughed inwardly as Christine gathered her cloak and gloves and kissed her cheek farewell as she flew out the door. This was only going to get better...

**OOOOO**

"Erik!" Christine's voice rang out through the cavernous basement as she pounded down the steps. Thankfully Erik had given her his key to come in through the Rue Scribe so the trek to his house was not as troublesome.

Erik heard Christine calling to him in what seemed to be a rather infuriated manner. He left his unfinished score by the piano bench (reluctantly nonetheless) and harkened to her call. "Yes, mon amour?"

Christine narrowed her eyes at him as she stormed up, tossing her cloak on a chair and discarding her gloves, letting them fall where they may. "Is there a reason you feel the need to censor my mail?"

Erik sighed, he had a feeling that was what this was about. "Christine, I just..."

Christine tapped her foot impatiently. Erik stifled a chuckle at her mother-esque stance. "Well? You 'just what'?" Erik shifted uncomfortably. Was she doing this on purpose to irk him? She had to know why he didn't want her to read such things... "I think I've got a perfectly good right to read my husband's letters!"

"And I've got a perfectly good right to do damn well as I please!" Erik sneered in return.

"Especially with the circumstances as they are!" Christine burst out--how dare he interrupt her!

'With the circumstances as they are?' What the...? "And what might the circumstances be, hmmm Christine? Don't tell me your carrying his child and you came back here as some excuse to make a fool out of me with the few months before you're confined. Or perhaps the circumstances are that I have somehow warped your mind under my command and pulled you back to me? Or, there is always the possibility that he has lost all his money in some tragic gambling incident and you are running back to me, just ready to declare your false love the way a whore spreads her legs for a chance at having my complete devotion to you. At a chance for me to treat you like a queen, a virginal goddess, to worship and pamper and fawn over you and expect nothing in return. But of course, that's the only good I'd ever be, isn't it? To spoil you with love as much as one can be spoiled when the love comes from a gargoyle." Erik's rage was running away with him as was his sensability.

Christine could barely follow what he meant by those explanations for 'what the circumstances' were. To be on the safe side, she chose to lash out with her own claws before retiring to her old bedroom. "Oh! You are so frustrating! Going off with the whole 'self-loathing' act! It's getting old, Erik, and it's getting old fast! Stop mocking me like this, dammit! Oh, Lord! You arrogant bastard, you always think it's about you! Damn you, you selfish fool!" With that Chrisitne fled to her room, bolting all the locks attached to the back door. She broke down sobbing on the bed. That fight hadn't even made any sense! The words were nothing, backed up by anger borne of reeling senses, simply an outlet from the rage that had been crescendoing withing her. But she knew the last things she had said to Erik would hit deep and hard. She knew how he strived to put her first, such accusations would infuriate them in their truth. _Oh God, what have I done?_

_**Note: "Biase" is supposedly--well, according to my lonely planet dictionary French for the conjicated form of the verb 'to f'.**_

**A/N: Did you all find it? The lovely little four-word phrase from Kay's _Phantom_? Extra kudos to those who pick it out (ie. all of you):P I know the fight doesn't really make sense, it didn't come out how I wanted it. Leave me a comment and maybe I can fix it (hinthint)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, but who knows? Maybe Santa will give me a surprise this year**

**A/N: I'm BAAAA-CK! Yes, it's true; this story is BACK IN ACTION! I'm still struggling immensely with where to take this, but I forced myself to do this since it's break and such. I also wrote a one-shot for Creative Writing class that got a 98 (good thing my teacher loves Phantom too!) and a poem that I want to throw in here somewhere. If not I'll be my typical weirdo self and put it in my profile. Because I am oh-so-proud of it for some strange reason :P Without further ado, here is my next chapter. **I must warn you though that nothing exciting happens, it is just a transition and I needed to start writing.** Gimme ideas, loves! REVIEW!!**

**Also, I wanted to send a note to all of you amazing people who have encouraged me along the way (even though some of you have abandoned me!)! **phantomangelex, snapedreamer, PrimaDonnaKate, ThePhantomoftheOpera101, Myli, Phantomforever, Gerikyummy, Ninetaleslover, Rider-of-Rohan23, Mimi90613, scully35, AriaGothique, BlackxMariah, HisPhantomess, Penmora Zenith **And those of you that so recently have kept up with me: Lady Wen, iluvmyphantom, VermilionHousui, UltimatePhantom-H.P.Phan, Ash, Mz. Muffin, authorgirl, and, of course, my dear friend and beta, Mademoiselle Christine Daäe. **

Christine sat on the edge of her bed, nervously twisting a lock of her hair. She hadn't meant to say those things—really, she hadn't—but didn't Erik realize that she _needed_ to know Raoul's thoughts? That was the only way to properly manipulate a person…he of all people should know and understand that. Yet at the same time, Christine did feel a deep sense of guilt. It was her duty, her obligation, to stay loyal to Raoul. She should have been wiser in her decision to know that she would never be able to fully honor that oath. Now she was stuck in a horrible mess, exactly where she had begun—was she to win Erik over once more and forsake the life she could have had or forget Erik and run back to Raoul's safely premeditated embrace? One thing was for certain, she could not just stay with one foot in each door. She had to choose yet again, each decision taking her closer to the point of no return.

**OOOOO**

Raoul was in deep, deep trouble. And what was more was that he didn't even remember clearly how he got there. But somehow he had and it was time enough to make a decision.

For the past two weeks he could think of nothing but Elisabeth. Suddenly he realized this was how Christine must feel all the time, in love with the forbidden and wed to the acceptable. _But really, how could I possibly be in love with Lissie, I've just met her!_ Raoul reasoned to himself. _Of course she is beautiful and proper and sweet, but truly, this cannot be that kind of love. No, it must be the fondness that siblings feel for one another. Thomas would think his sister beautiful, proper, and sweet, would he not? Therefore I am simply fond of her in the same sense. She is not Christine. _Raoul was about to add "She is not mine" but something stopped him. Oddly, he didn't dwell on that fact and instead sat down and forced himself to write his wife a letter. He searched his brain for things to say and events to recount that did not involve Elisabeth. Two hours, twelve sentences, and five lies later he sealed the letter, copied the address on the envelope, and went to send a servant to mail it.

**OOOOO**

_Dearest Christine, _

_I hope this letter finds you well. It is awfully dreary here, what with rain or snow every day. It makes me sorely miss our warm chateau and your company. On another note, work here has been rather bothersome, yet we are finishing up and I should return on schedule. As I have said, it is quite lonesome here without you, though at least the business has kept my days lively. There have been several dinner parties that I have been required to attend though they are not near as entertaining then those which you accompany me. Luckily, Thomas has been present at all of them so I don't need to go around making small talk with the English nobles. They are quite pompous, I must add. I also have had the pleasure of meeting Lady Elisabeth, Thomas's sister. She is a lovely young woman and I believe the two of you would get on quite well. I do so miss you though, my darling. I eagerly count the days until my return. _

_Love,_

_Raoul_

Christine's heart sunk with every word she read. The guilt was building quite rapidly for the two men she had wronged. For the past few weeks she and Erik had been irksomely polite towards each other. She longed for the nights when he would hold her in his arms as she dropped off to a pleasant sleep. She missed the loving caress of his voice and his hands around her body and soul. And once more, she was all to blame.

Every time she remembered what she said she cringed, for the image of Erik reading to her from the book of Arabic tales surfaced and she felt a longing to be curled up against him, so close that she could smell the scent of leather and candles that lingered on his skin.

So with those thoughts bottled in her mind, Christine set off to her bathroom. She drew herself a steaming bath (Erik had fitted running cold and hot water pipes down here) and shed her clothes, struggling fantastically with the corset. Finally after freeing herself from the confines of her daywear she slipped into the heated water and sighed as its liquid warmth filled her throughout.

Her mind drifted to less holy ideas of Erik...many of them including this bathtub...this soap that she was cleansing herself with...her body...his hands... "Christine! You are a married woman!" _Yes, but I am currently staying with the man of my dreams while my husband in enjoying himself in England. Of course, seeing as the man of my dreams and I have not talked in two weeks, I am not exactly as pleased as I could have been. But still…Raoul is fine._ "The hell he is! He loves you, Christine, don't betray him!" _**Raoul** loves me? **Erik **loves me far more with one fiber of his being then Raoul ever could with his entire self._ She drained the water and toweled off as the argument ensued. "It doesn't matter who you're in love with, you married Raoul!" _Oh poppycock, everyone knows that nobles always have lovers on the side._ "Surely you are not accusing Raoul of adultery?" _Hardly, I'm just fighting for my right to love Erik more than anything else in the world despite my 'duties' and in fact part of my 'duties' perks. Besides, he seemed rather attached to that 'Lady Elisabeth' _"Don't be absurd! And anyways, you would _dare _to classify yourself as a noble? That's foolish...behind your expensive gowns and lace gloves you're just one skip ahead of the poor, Opera trash you really are." The thoughts continued to bombard Christine relentlessly and she began to feel as though she was slipping beneath the surface of the water, drowning in its warmth even as her heart froze over. Finally, she shook her curly head as if to clear her mind and turned her attention to properly scrubbing every inch of her skin until it was a raw pink shade. As long as she kept busy her mind didn't betray her…

Eventually she had finished doing everything she could possibly do in the confines of her room. She was groomed perfectly, her hair fixed precisely and her dress clean and pressed. She had washed the floors of her bedroom and bathroom and scrubbed every surface in the adjoining chambers until they shone. She had dusted and swept and polished every piece of furniture. She had even organized all of her clothes and the small set of books she kept in her room. She had sharpened her lead and organized her writing paper and calligraphy pens, finding a perfect place for each item. After conquering her room she emerged to take on the entire house.

Erik was not there when she went out, but Christine was no longer surprised by his absence. It seemed that the only time he was home was at night when he locked himself away and composed for a few hours. Christine would lie in bed and listen to the melancholy tunes, pretending that it was just like the old days when he would sing her to sleep or let his violin serenade her into a world of dreams. If she closed her eyes she could almost forget the world above and could surrender herself to his true beauty.

But during the day she could not think. So instead, she had found her new hobby—cleaning. She did all the wash and set it out to dry on a makeshift clothesline in front of the main fireplace. She went to work on every room but Erik's music room, giving each chamber as much attention as the last. She finished ironing and folding the clothes and put them away in their proper wardrobes, making sure they hung or sat just so. She even cleaned the dishes, no matter that they were already clean and polished the silver service until it shone. She left no crack or crevice untouched and by ten that night there was nothing left to do. Grudgingly, Christine retired for the night, praying that a dreamless sleep would take her. Just before she drifted off she couldn't help but think that this wasn't the way her life with Erik was supposed to be at all…

**A/N: Yes, that wasn't very thrilling, but REVIEW! I need encouragement since I just started again!**

**Oh, and to all my Christian readers: Merry Christmas! To all my Jewish buddies: Happy Chanukah! To everyone else: Happy Holidays! **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay, I KNOW these are really short chapters, but it's going to start to get more exciting! And to Mrs. Wilson (since for some strange reason you are letting me do this as an independent project for a school course) I must impress upon you that these chapters are not über-short because I only have a few weeks to write them, it is because that is how I write. The point is I'm writing, right? Haha. **

**Thank you again to my wonderful reviewers from previous time, ESPECIALLY last chapter, you all are my inspiration (along with ALW and Kay and Beethoven and Errrrrrrrrrrrrik!) **

**Ash and Mademoiselle Christine Daäe: Awwwwwww, thanks! You are both cheer me up so much with your reviews, they always make me do little happy dances around my room!**

**iluvmyphantom: Thanks for the review! And yeah, she REALLY needs to talk with Erik. Personally, if it were up to me, Raoul could get relocated to Gion and marry a geisha. **

**Disclaimer: Well actually I do own the several copies of the movie and various CDs and pictures and red roses and shirts and cloaks and a sexy white half mask, but alas, no Erik on the list. So no, I don't own PotO. Surprise, surprise. Santa came up short this year. Again. **

There was no sunlight when Christine woke up. No golden rays streaming in from great bay windows. There was no noise, no sounds of movement from the man whose house she shared. There was nothing.

Christine cursed her immature temper and inability to understand Erik at all times. It was if she had driven him away completely; another step further and he would leave the city.

With a grunt of disgust at her own faults, she pulled herself from bed and once more took her sweet time dressing. Upon finishing she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece as she passed the living room and noticed it was only half past eight. It wasn't as if she could spend her days sleeping, either. Nightmares plagued her mind and left her to wake up breathless and alone, shivering in the great expanse of the bed though she made sure to pile numerous blankets on top of herself.

Christine had given brief thought to abandoning the House by the Lake, but Erik's presence lingered and held strong sway over her fragile and confused heart. She could not return to Madame's or the Manor if she tried. There was no Erik in those buildings; no magic and no dark beauty.

Something was amiss. That was the first thought to cross her mind as she entered the kitchen. The sliver of a white paper on the table caught her attention. With shaky hands, Christine picked up the letter—addressed to her (simply, _Christine_)—and peeled back the wax seal.

_Christine, _

_I have gone to Rome for a time to gather my thoughts and to respect your need of space. You needn't worry—I shall not return until well after you and le Comte are happily settled back in the Manor. _

_As I doubt we shall meet again, Christine, I feel the need to express my deepest regrets for what has come to pass between us. I have finally come to my senses. It was not right for me to keep Raoul from you, nor was it right for me to deceive you for my own selfish purposes. For that I owe you an apology. I don't expect you to accept it, much less forgive me, but I need to set things straight—to tell you where it is I am coming from and to prove that for all my irrational obsession I still have some logic left within me. _

_If true happiness lies for you with le Comte, then I will no longer deprive you of it. My own memory of a heart shall disappear from the grief, but it shall all be worth it, if only you—the Angel of my Soul—will find your bliss restored. My contentment is a petty detail that the world never cared for; I have been folly in my hopes to think that even so compassionate a young woman as you could change that. After thirty-seven years on this earth, I have come to accept that my life was not intended to contain pleasure. My childish longings to feel loved must be suppressed. In all my years I have never committed a crime as great as the day I gave my heart to you—only when the Devil gives can it be a sin. _

_So to the woman who gave me what I did not deserve, the woman who, if only for a time, taught me love and hope, the woman who almost saved me from my solitude—thank you. Surely you will be rewarded in Heaven for your acts of such immense charity to the Son of Satan himself. I never asked for this father, this face, this fate. But somehow I have sinned horribly to deserve such a punishment as this! To love that which is so pure, so beautiful, with the love of a monster. Oh Christine, if only you knew how far my sorrow reaches! Farewell, my Love, my Life, my Other Self, farewell. _

_-E_

**OOOOO**

"_**There's no time for us**_

_**There's no place for us**_

_**What is this thing that builds our dreams**_

_**Yet slips away from us?**_

_**Who wants to live forever,**_

_**Who wants to live forever…?**_

_**There's no chance for us,**_

_**It's all decided for us,**_

_**This world has only one sweet moment**_

_**Set aside for us**_

_**Who wants to live forever,**_

_**Who wants to live forever…?**_

_**Now touch my tears with your lips,**_

_**Touch my world with your fingertips,**_

_**And we can have forever**_

_**And we can love forever**_

_**Forever is ours today**_

_**Who wants to live forever,**_

_**Who wants to live forever…?**_

_**Who waits forever anyway?"**_

**OOOOO**

Her heart sunk lower with each passing moment. Her infidelity to both men had perhaps wounded both relationships beyond repair. But which man meant more to her? Her sweet, noble, Raoul, her husband and friend and…

No, Raoul would never love her as she should be. Nothing was like Erik's love—terrifying and exhilarating in its all-consuming entirety, its raging passion, its raw and bleeding pain. Erik needed her more than all else; without her he would surely slip into a fit of total insanity and his soul would indeed be lost forever to his deceitful master. And maybe, just maybe, she needed Erik as well.

She had left him once, and she would not make the same mistake again. Hurriedly she gathered her things and money as well as Nadir's address. She had only ever heard Erik mention the man, but she knew their history went far back and he would be the most likely to help her. Armed with a suitcase of two traveling dresses, a diary, and the slip of paper with Monsieur Khan's address on it, she headed out for the first time in weeks.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Little note more for my benefit than yours:**

**Down Once More scene: late January**

**Staying with Meg: Very Late March (still cold out, spring was coming late—fits in with my description)**

**With Erik: April-mid May**

**Right now: mid—late May**

**To my readers and my reviewers: I love you all so very much and will be responding to you individually. However I feel it is important to thank you for your praise and support of my most recent chapter: Miscei, phantomphorever, iluvmyphantom, and my darling friend Mademoiselle Christine Daaé. **

**Happy Sweet Sixteen to my dearest friend, Ashley, and Happy 17th Birthday to the amazing Mademoiselle Christine Daaé. I dedicate this chapter to you, my pretties: Ashley and Jackie!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera and am making nothing off of this work (i.e.: money, drugs, hott sex—haha) with the exception of (moderate) joy and (more than moderate) stress. I also do not own Montefiore; that incredible setting was created by none other than the brilliant Mr. Gregory Maguire. If you have not read _Mirror Mirror_ I suggest you do now, it is a tale of dark and whimsical creatures, disturbing and fascinating in its own right. **

**OOOOO**

The rhythmic clatter of her footsteps on the Parisian streets soothed Christine. To keep from dwelling on her fears and uncertainties she forced herself to do something mindless—counting her steps, various road names, the familiar blocks left to go until her destination of Nadir Khan's residence. Surely he would help her; it would be downright rude to offer one's service to a troubled young woman. But what if he didn't know where it was that Erik had gone? What if Nadir didn't even live in Paris any longer? What if he was dead?

Christine turned off onto a residential street and located Nadir's apartment. Before knocking she primped herself slightly, hoping to bring life to her dull and worried appearance by smoothing her gloved fingers over her skirts and tucking a stray chestnut curl behind her left ear. Finally she lifted the brass knocker and sounded her unexpected arrival. In the moments of silence that followed, Christine began to convince herself that Nadir no longer inhabited the building whose doorstep she lingered over.

Just as she was about to turn around and return home the door opened to reveal a tall man with skin of rich ebony and dark eyes.

"May I be of service to you, Mademoiselle?" His voice was equally exotic with its thick accent and deep tone, though nowhere near as magical as her masked lover's angelic baritone.

"I certainly hope so, Monsieur. I was wondering if you might know…" Christine blushed, what if Nadir did not remember who Erik was and thought her a raving lunatic? Then again there was always the chance that he would lead danger to her Angel… "…if you might have any idea where Erik may have gone. He mentioned Italy…"

A look of measured realization crossed his features, "Ah, Miss Daäe—of course! Please, come in." He stepped back to usher the confused young woman inside. He hung her light traveling cloak in the closet and led her to a comfortable parlor where a cheerful fire crackled. "Tea, Mademoiselle Daäe?"

"Yes, thank you." Christine settled herself on an overstuffed chair that smelled faintly of patchouli. There was something very soothing about Nadir's home that relaxed Christine's high-strung nerves. Moments later Nadir appeared with a tea tray. She accepted both the milk and lemon he offered before they continued their conversation.

"Now," the Persian settled himself back on the cushions, "you mentioned something regarding Italy?

"_Oui_, Monsieur," Christine's voice was little more than a whisper, frail to fit her physical appearance. "He left me a note earlier this morning to say he was leaving for Italy. He did not specify…" the look of complete sorrow that clouded her warm brown eyes filled some of the gaps left in her explanation, but mainly confused poor Nadir more. What had been going on since he and Erik last talked? How long had it been since he had seen him? Three months? Four? Surely not longer than five?

Nadir focused once more on the young woman—could she even be considered that? At the moment she looked very much like a lost child—'s anxious countenance and his expression softened, as did the business-like manner of his tone. "I see, Mademoiselle. You know, it is quite routine for Erik to leave if he is feeling particularly cornered or threatened in his settings," the guilt that joined her grief in those wide chocolate pools made Nadir feel worse. It was clear that he was simply continuing to upset the poor girl. On top of that he was not sure that he could handle a full-fledged feminine fit complete with wracking sobs and snotty handkerchiefs. "I'm sure he will return within a few weeks."

The tears welling in the ingénue's eyes spilled over as she swiped at them with shaking hands (half from her mild hysteria and half from her utter embarrassment that she was loosing control of her emotions in front of a man whose acquaintance she had made naught but half an hour before). In a voice even smaller than before—it seemed to Nadir as if she were shrinking before his eyes, her bony frame curling in on itself, her wild curls shading her face, her voice sinking deeper inside her chest—she replied, "But you see, Monsieur, I must find him within the week. It is with utmost urgency that I come to you with such a dilemma; in order to sustain what I have regained I must be swift in my search." _Or else I shall loose all that I have and all that I know. I cannot—I will not—let him hide away from the world. I know I have wronged him terribly, but there must be some hope of redemption left. If not for me, then at least for Erik. _

Nadir nodded, not at all tempted to prompt her. "I believe I might just be able to help you."

**OOOOO**

"Here it is," Nadir pulled loose an envelope from a drawer crammed full with letters, documents, and the like.

_2931, Montefiore, Spoleto_

"I'm not positive, of course, but it is the best lead I've got," he attempted a weak smile to set Christine at ease.

She did not return the sentiment, but nodded as she silently calculated how fast she could get there if she left by noon. There were also the issues of the countless preparations…

Nadir cleared his throat, "I could make arrangements, Mademoiselle, if you so wish. However I insist that my manservant, Darius, and I escort you. Rome is a long way for a lone lady such as yourself."

Christine smiled up at him, a first that surprised Nadir, despite the bitter agony still etched in the windows of her soul. She was grateful at least, though reassurance was a long way off. "I would like that very much, Monsieur Khan."

"Please, Mademoiselle, call me Nadir."

**OOOOO**

The carriage ride was long and uneventful. Christine remained silent for the most part and after a day or so Nadir stopped attempting to have a conversation with her. It wasn't that Christine was not grateful for Nadir's help—quite the opposite, she could not think at all of how to repay him—but a painful guilt fogged her mind and weighed her spirit down. With each passing day Christine began to doubt herself more and more and her anxiety level increased as time went on. She hadn't expected it to take so long to get there. She couldn't help but begin to convince herself that Erik would never take her back.

Even with the strong, swift breed of horses Nadir owned it had taken nearly a week to get to Rome, and from there it would still be a three-day journey. Christine could only hope that Raoul did not get home before her. If he did, though, she had gone ahead and concocted a plan with Meg to keep him from worrying. Meg had sent a letter to the deChagny manor to notify the staff that she, her mother, and Christine would be going to Rome for a time. She said they would be back in late June. Christine in turn had written her own letter to Raoul stating that due to the dismal weather and poor health she was in Meg and Madame Giry were taking her to Rome on holiday. She threw in an absurd amount of romantic lines to keep Raoul from discovering her betrayal.

With all the time in the world left to think it went without saying that Christine though of nothing productive, in fact the only thought to cross her mind that was not destructive was that of where they would be staying that night. Most nights they drove late and left early, but the horses did require some time to regain their strength. So as the rural countryside flew by outside her window, Christine continued to dwell on the past few weeks of lonely discomfort, replaying her encounters with Erik over and over in her head. Unwillingly her mind began to relive one of the worst nights…

_Christine lay in bed, her senses alert for the softest sound. Erik had still not come home and it worried her greatly. The silken sheets began to scratch her skin and her own heartbeat was a deafening pounding in her ears. The black veil of night seemed so bright to her that her eyes burned and her vision exploded in flashing stars. She shivered violently beneath her pile of blankets, waiting for his presence to calm her down. _

_Her emotions were driving her to a world of hallucination where the angels wept tears of blood upon her naked form. A melody of tears tore through her mind coupled with the wailing of hopelessness before giving way to an all-consuming silence. Her teeth chattered and she shook uncontrollably with a bone-rattling chill despite the down comforter and quilts wrapped around her frail form. _

_Spotting a scarlet rose, on of Erik's roses, she reached forward her fingers aching to grasp that which reminded her of her Angel. But as she closed her fist around it, the thorns tore into her soft skin and thick streams of black blood poured out of the puncture marks. She stumbled backwards, frightened and surprised. _

_Faintly at first, then stronger, the horrible smell of burning flesh and singed hair came to her and Christine began to run, looking for the poor soul who was captive to Satan's cruelest Hell. A dim glow issued from a room at the end of the corridor she had entered. She followed its silver path and was led to a mirror. At first it appeared only as glass, cold and calculating, its glare one of hatred towards many. But as her vision focused she saw the creature trapped inside the mirror and all breath rushed out of her body in a scream. The being was burned completely, the body and face alike covered in blisters and patches of discoloration, shades of red. If the deformity on Erik's face had covered him entirely he surely would have looked like this loathsome monster. Realization hit her like a staggering blow as she suddenly understood the obvious: this was a mirror showing her the reflection of herself. She lunged forward at the mirror and fell through it into a world on the other side of the looking glass where pain enveloped her hideous form and death descended upon her in the form of pure white light. _

_Christine awoke from her nightmare with a start and vomited twice. After that, she stopped sleeping at nighttime and remained lying in her room, caught in her trance of terror._

That dream continued to haunt her and she began to wonder if it would for the rest of eternity. And for the first time she truly started to believe that there would be no reprieve for her, no paradise to speak of. Christine couldn't escape the feeling that in the months of indecision and deceit to both men as well as herself that had passed she had earned herself a one-way ticket to Hell until the end of time. For what demon deserves to be in Heaven?

**A/N: Little dramatic, I know, but still. Let me know your thoughts my pretties!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey there! I'm so sorry about the delay; I meant to get this up several days ago but my English teacher (who is also the incredibly intimidating and difficult advanced composition instructor) decided to give us an 800 point essay due in five days!! You can imagine my anxiety. So without further ado, I present you with Chapter 12 :)**

**Thank you ever so much to my reviewers: Mademoiselle Christine Daaé, iluvmyphantom, phantomphorever, ShadowDragonWings, my French class sidekick Ashley and, of course, the crazyamazing Mz. Muffin**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Duh. **

She came back to him in pieces. No matter how much he willed her to leave him, to cease her insistent haunting, she remained fixed in his mind. She would always be there singing songs in his head.

"_This haunted face _

_Holds no horror for me now_

_It's in your soul_

_That the true distortion lies"_

_Erik tried unsuccessfully to steady his breathing as her eyes bore into his own. It was if she had suddenly realized what everyone else knew him to be—a monster. 'She has failed me,' he thought to himself, 'almost as greatly as I have failed her.'_

Erik willed himself to wake from this familiar nightmare to no avail.

"_The tears I might have shed_

_For your dark fate_

_Grow cold, and turn_

_To tears of hate!"_

His vivid memory and broken heart brought her back to him relentlessly. No matter where he turned, she continued to plague his mind.

"_Christine, I love you…"_

_She stepped towards his broken form where he kneeled on the stone floor. The look she gave him made his heart stop. This was her choice._

_Slowly, carefully, she pressed the ring into his palm. She closed his fingers around it, her own small hands remaining on his larger ones for an extended moment. The words she didn't say resounded in his head. 'Forget me…' _

He bolted upright, sweating from the anxieties that plagued his mind. A soft knock on his door heralded him from his desk, where he had fallen asleep, in a foul mood. "What could possibly be of such importance as to come to me, Barlet?"

"If you please, Monsignor, a party of two has arrived and requested admittance to speak with you." Pierre Barlet trembled slightly as he delivered his message. The Master despised contact with others and had little tolerance for servants that spoke before spoken to, even if it was to send a message.

"Turn them out; I'm not receiving visitors. And make sure not to bother me again, or you will join them on the streets." Erik was thoroughly annoyed. He did not need this right now—he had enough to be worrying about.

"M-Monsignor, I think—I think you may just want t-to take this particular call." Barlet held onto the door frame to steady himself. He had known the Master for all twenty years he had owned this estate and only once seen his temper unleashed, thank God that it had not been directed towards him.

Erik growled low in his throat. "I should not need to warn you to refrain from trying my patience. But due to your impudent behavior, it seems I need to refresh your memory."

"It's a Monsieur Khan, Monsignor, and a Mademoiselle Daaé…please sir, the young lady begged me to hold company with you…"

"What?!" The Master's brilliant eyes swirled with emotion—rage, shock, confusion.

Fearing for far more than his job, Barlet bowed and managed to say, "They are waiting in the drawing room, Monsignor," before running down the hall and tripping on the top of the back staircase.

Erik ran his fingers through his disheveled hair in frustration. "Damn her—what could she possibly want now?" He strode to his bedchambers to clean up. He would be damned if she saw him like this over her!

OOOOO

Christine sat beside Nadir in the drawing room nearly shredding the lace on her gown in her anxious state. This was it—the confrontation. It was going to be harder this time, for she had grown up greatly since the first time she betrayed him. Still, she wasn't sure what to expect since Erik was so unpredictable. One thing was certain in her mind nonetheless, winning him back would be far from easy.

Nadir patted her leg reassuringly and gave her a kind smile. He too recognized that the task in front of her was immensely difficult, but knew that Erik's love for her would conquer all; if it would not eventually eradicate the current problems in their relationship, then it would his entire being. It had already destroyed him greatly, and Nadir recognized that his friend was nearing his breaking point. More strain would speed up the inevitable death of his whole self. For both Christine and Erik's sakes, he hoped that it was not already too late to mend the crack which had become a rift.

Christine felt his presence before she heard or saw him. Whenever he neared her she felt herself being drawn towards him with an invisible force. Her heart swelled with love for him and desperate, pleading hope that the wrongs she had committed against him could be undone. The bittersweet music that he sung in her head swirled around, increasing in volume from a faint pianissimo to a powerful fortissimo. She closed her eyes and reveled in the passionate pull of her soul towards his. When she reopened them, she was met with a sight that stopped everything around and inside her.

OOOOO

**A/N: Alright dears, review time! **

**Yes, mega short cliffhanger! **

**Review and I shall remedy your pain quickly.**

**Mwahahaha. **

**JK, keep scrolling : )**

**OOOOO**

Erik felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes settled on Christine. She was even more beautiful then he had remembered, yet an overwhelming sadness surrounded her. She had not ever looked this wretched—not even when she first returned to him. More than anything he wanted to take her into his arms and make her forget the uncalled-for rudeness which he had treated her with not so long ago. He realized now that if it was anyone's fault, it was his own. And yet…as much as he longed to do such things he could not. The trust he had in her was too weak and the pain he felt was too great. If only for a short while, she had given him peace, happiness, and love—three things he never expected to meet with personally. And for that he was grateful. Now that Erik had come to this revelation, he wished her to disappear from his life at this precise moment so that nothing she could say or do would taint the acceptance that he had come to. He recognized now that she belonged in his dreams—where though she could not touch him with all the wonderful emotions she had evoked in him, she could also not hurt him any longer. The lesson he had learned in his childhood had proved itself true—within the fairy tale realm of imagination you are free from feeling and therefore free from life.

Without a single word, Erik turned on his heel and retraced his steps back up the stairs. He knew how he would survive from now on—the same way he had all his life before actual contact with Christine was introduced. It seemed like ages since he had lived within himself and reality was so tangible to him now. '_I _will_ conquer this,'_ he vowed to himself, _'or else I shall loose all grasp on sanity.'_ Strange it was though, how in order to keep his reason he must abandon all conventional forms of it.

A cry broke through his meditation suddenly as Christine tore after him in a very unladylike fashion. "Erik, _please_," her small, warm hands wrapped around his arm and it was as if the skin beneath the many layers of clothing was on fire—he suddenly wished he had just come down in his shirtsleeves so that her skin might have actually touched his own…for the first time in weeks. "Let me explain." The pleading look in her adoring eyes threw him for a loop; it seemed a complete role-reversal.

Erik sighed wearily, "I cannot keep doing this, Christine. Your games and circles tire me. Do you not see how much it has already cost me to let you betray me time and time again?" Christine looked down in shame. She had been rather selfish in the past—wanting him only when it was convenient and beneficial to her. But as the months passed since her knowing him—as a man that is, living and breathing—she had begun to love him, or so she thought. Now as she took in his countenance—handsome as always, yet pained, his eyes showing his emotional exhaustion—she realized how egotistical she had behaved. And perhaps part of that was Erik's own fault—the way he fawned over her and belittled himself—but she must now take responsibility for all those horrible mistakes, both intentional and subconscious.

She wondered if that meant that she was to respect his wishes and leave him once and for all, but surely that was not what he wanted most! If only she could convey her sorrow and guilt for deceiving him and show him her honest intentions of devoting the rest of her life to his happiness. So in the only manner she knew how, she opened her mouth, whet her lips, breathed deeply with her diaphragm as Erik had taught her so long ago, and attempted an apology.

_You gave me your music, _

_I made your song take wing, _

_And then, how I repaid you, _

_Denied you, and betrayed you…_

_But I was bound to love you, _

_When I heard you sing, _

_And though, I have deceived you, _

_I love you and I need you…_

_So say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Let me lead you from your solitude_

_Say you'll want me with you here, beside you_

_Anywhere you go, let me go too_

_Erik, that's all I ask of you_

"Please Erik, I never meant that fight to effect you so deeply. Can we not simply put it behind us?"

Looking back on the disagreement, Erik failed to see what had upset him so greatly. The only possible explanation was that whenever they discussed their relationship or when someone mentioned Raoul's name it was if all progress between Erik and Christine had vanished and they were back to walking on eggshells once more. But really, Christine had been right—that argument would not have occurred if it weren't for Erik's damned self-loathing and expectance for everyone else to do the same, even Christine. It should not be Christine apologizing right now, it should be him. But it wasn't as if he could just control his outbursts of jealousy and self-hatred. How could he ever explain to her the difficulty he had with their relationship. He constantly doubted himself, not due to any of Christine's faults, but his own. He was getting better, but he needed her to be patient. "We can only try, _mon ange_, but perchance that is all it will take."

**A/N: Okay, so a bit better than cutting it off earlier, no? Review Please, I love you all!!**


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